


Fighting Talk

by JaneDavitt



Series: Action Figure [3]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-05
Updated: 2012-08-05
Packaged: 2017-11-11 11:07:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneDavitt/pseuds/JaneDavitt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony needs to shut up from time to time. Or maybe choose different words. That's the way Steve sees it anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fighting Talk

Tony's bedroom is bigger than Steve's. And yes, in an ostentatious, I own the building kind of way, but standing in it wondering whether to take his socks off before his jeans or after, Steve doesn't really care.

He's nervous. He's allowed to be. Looked at one way, this is the first sex he's had in...oh God, so long. Looked at another, it hasn't been long at all, and that's even worse.

"You're not a rebound," he tells Tony, skinning out of everything he's wearing beneath the waist and wishing his T-shirt was a few inches longer. "I want you to know that."

Tony, already naked, reclining on a bed big enough that it's probably got its own zip code, looks blank. "Uh, thank you?" 

"And can you stop lounging? I feel like you're going to be demanding peeled grapes soon."

Tony obligingly rises up to his knees, kneeling up, not back on his heels, his dick sticking out and up, matching the room nicely.

Steve's definitely not complaining about that, though he has the feeling that even under-endowed, Tony would still have that same magnet to iron confidence. It's mental confidence, not physical.

He realizes that he's been staring at Tony's erection for a little too long. Tony's grinning at him. "It isn't just the suit that gave me the name." Tony throws in a hip-thrust and sings something that sounds like a reference to a dog and a bird dancing. Steve really doesn't want to ask about it. Tony can get distracted bringing him up to speed on something that was invented in a different century, hell, a different millennium than the one Steve was born in.

"Stop doing that." Steve peels off his T-shirt and look at that, Tony's the one doing the staring now. He raises his eyebrows. "What? You've seen me naked before. Remember when you had to hose that purple mud off me before I mutated into something with too many legs? And at least once a week there's a fire alarm when I'm showering and you're always waiting in my room with a towel."

He's embarrassed by the fact it'd taken the Hulk to clue him in on that one, with an elbow nudge that would've cracked most people's ribs and a growled, "Only fire in Tony's pants, ha, ha!" 

Waiting for Tony to look even vaguely guilty would be a waste of time, so he takes the tighten and twitch of Tony's mouth when Tony holds back a grin as the only apology he's going to get.

"There's a lot of space between us," Tony says. "How about we do something to change that?" 

Steve wants to, but he's not done staring. His cock's the only part of him he's aware of right now. It's at the stage where the stroke of a wet finger would be enough to trigger his climax and all he's done is look. Tony's strong and lean, battle-hardened, the sophistication and elegance shed with his clothing. Steve can see scars and nicks, and here and there faint bruises that, given the suit's ability to soak up punishment, were inflicted during a training session without the suit or the after-effects of what would've been a killing blow if Tony's hadn't been shielded.

The bruises bother Steve more than they should.

"Is it this?" Tony puts his hand so that it covers the center of his chest. "Think of it as really out-there jewelry."

That jolts Steve out of his appreciative haze. "Huh?"

"I've only had one woman throw up for real when she got it through her pretty skull that yeah, hole in my chest, not just a sparkly stick-on, but it does freak people out and I can't blame them."

Steve's by the bed, his hands on Tony's shoulders before Tony's finished talking. "You're nuts. It's keeping you alive, Tony. The only time I'd, uh, freak, was if it stopped working." He traces its shape with his fingertips, marveling at how compact it is. "It's part of you now."

"So's this," Tony says and grabs Steve's hand, pulling it down to his erection. 

Curling his fingers around all that hard heat is reflexive, but Steve knows just what he's doing when he lets go. His hand closes tightly on captured warmth and emptiness, but the pang of loss is worth it. No way is Tony running the show. Maybe later, Steve will feel safe enough to surrender, but this first time, he's going to be the one calling the shots. He's been fighting with Tony since they met. Sex won't change that.

"We do this my way," he tells Tony and pushes Tony to his back on the bed. "You okay with that?"

"What if I'm not?"

"We still do it my way, we just waste time fighting about it first."

There's a voice telling him not to make this easy for Tony. If there's an Iron Man dictionary, the definition of 'easy' is 'boring'.

"You're the take orders type--"

"I _gave_ orders. People under my command obeyed them. I took them from people who out-ranked me. You don't." He puts his hand against Tony's face, needing to remind himself that under the suit, Tony's warm, fragile, human. "And if you tell me you're the team leader, I'll tell you that's out there, not in here."

"Want to tie me to the bed? Put a collar on me?"

The visuals make his mouth go dry, the trust Tony would be showing awes him, but he shakes his head. Tony wasn't being serious anyway. "All the super-villains tie you up. It's a smart move, but gagging you should be top of their list. Me, I want your hands free. I'm not scared of what you'll do with them."

"Might make you beg for mercy."

"I was kinda hoping I'd be asking for more."

Tony sucks in a breath, already grinning. "Oh, I think I can make that happen. Come here."

It's two minutes in when Steve realizes this is different. It's the noise. Every encounter he's ever had has been handled in silence interrupted by muffled groans, bitten-off sighs, or the urgent slap of flesh on flesh muffled by blankets. Tony doesn't bother to draw back the covers or dim the lights. He doesn't even lower his voice much, commentating cheerfully on what's going on until Steve, nervous, exasperated, shuts him up with a hand across Tony's lips.

"Stop talking," he says, whispering it, eying the door anxiously. "What we're doing -- people might hear. And yeah, I know it doesn't matter, but..."

"Captain America and Iron Man, sitting in a tree, F-U-C-K-I-N-G," Tony belts out with a sunny smile. "Somehow, I don't think what we're doing will surprise people. That we took this long, well, yeah. They were probably placing bets on who'd crack first five minutes after we met."

"Shut _up_." He's blushing, hot and sweaty with embarrassment.

Tony rolls to his back, shoves a pillow under his head, and taps his mouth. "Make me."

It's pretty obvious what Tony means, but Steve's already working out the logistics. "Like that?" he asks dubiously.

"Why not?"

Steve points out where his ass will be and Tony grins. "Now you're making me wonder if I can equip it with some accessories. Imagine the possibilities. Plug and play."

Steve shakes his head, disgusted with himself for thinking, even for a moment, that Tony saw him as more than a warm body to fuck. The man's crude. He's used to barrack-room talk, but this isn't -- it's just the two of them. He remembers gentle touches, whispered, urgent confessions of love, and bites down on his lip. Hurting himself helps, but it's a dangerous habit, he knows that. "This was a bad idea. This was a really bad idea--"

He's halfway to the door when Tony puts himself in front of it. "If you go and leave me like this, I'll hide your shield." Tony shrugs. "Plus, hello, you're naked?"

"Tony..." He's feeling tired. Fighting doesn't wear him out, but five minutes trading quips with Tony and he's wrung-out and jittery, though he never lets it show. "I'm not ready for this. With you."

Tony's gaze dips. "Some of you seems totally ready for take-off. Did I mention I'm really good at working with small parts?"

"I'm not small!" God, he is _not_ going to defend or debate the size of his dick with Tony Stark. "I'm going to get dressed, then I'm walking out of here, and we're going to pretend this never happened."

Tony purses his lips. "I'm good with, well, none of that plan. Counter-proposal. You naked, back on the bed, me, okay, fine, shutting up, also staying naked, also on the bed. Sound good?"

The trouble is, it does. Even with Tony's brashness acting like sandpaper on his nerves, it does. He's human. Sex is part of being human. He wants the connection, the white noise moment when everything goes away but the pleasure, and he'd thought Tony would be a safe wingman. "I'm leaving. I made a mistake. A big one."

Spreading his arms dramatically wide, Tony says, "Letting yourself have some fun isn't a mistake! We could die tomorrow. Gather some rosebuds, Cap."

"We'll die one day, guaranteed, but I'd prefer to do it without regrets, if it's all the same to you."

Tony looks genuinely baffled. "It's sex. What's to regret? Even when it's bad, it's -- okay, it's me. It's always good."

"I've got standards! I don't just -- not with anyone -- just with--" He hears his voice break on a name he's not going to say and hurries on, burying a slip under an insult. "I wanted this, yeah, but that was before you reminded me what an asshole you are. Now I want to go. You want to try stopping me? Unless you keep a suit in your bedroom, it isn't going to happen."

Tony shrugs and wanders away. "Your choice, Cap," he throws back over his shoulder and he sounds as indifferent as if Steve's just said no to an offered cup of coffee.

He's got both socks on and he's trying to untangle his briefs from his jeans when he glances at the bed. Tony's jerking off, his hand sliding and gliding over hardness casually enough that it doesn't register for a moment.

He meets Tony's flat stare, then turns away, scooping up the rest of his clothes. He'll dress in the hallway if he has to, but he's not staying to watch the floor show.

"JARVIS! Lock the doors," Tony snaps out. 

"What the hell?"

"You don't have to fuck me. Or be fucked by me. But you got me like this and you can watch me take care of it." 

He's seen Tony grim before, not often, but sometimes. This isn't like that. Tony's voice is chilled steel, his eyes sharp with hurt. He swallows and lets what he's holding slide to the floor, ashamed for a different reason. He's been like this. Aroused to the point of discomfort, no outlet but his hand. Hell, he's still mostly hard himself, anger lighting as hot a burn as lust.

"Look, maybe I can--"

"You can stand there and watch. Invitation to do more has just been rescinded. Permanently."

"Tony--"

"Fuck you," Tony says through his teeth, and his hand blurs, squeezes, punishes until it's all over and Tony's stomach is painted with white streaks and he's lying back, staring up at the ceiling as if he's alone.

Steve dresses like he's heard the enemy planes approaching, and bites his lip again when Tony orders the doors to be unlocked for five seconds, no more. It doesn't give him time to apologize, it doesn't give him time to explain.

If it was hung any differently, the door would've hit him on the way out, but it's Tony's door and it slides shut.

With a very final click.


End file.
